The Journey
by Crinklybrownleaves
Summary: Another version of Adelaide! So many possibilities! This one came from thinking about how different Lucien and Jean were with each other after Adelaide, compared to before (particularly Jean!).
1. Chapter 1

**This story is another version of 'What happened in Adelaide?' It's an attempt to work out how they got from the tentative hand holding at the end of 3.8 to the more confident, more tactile relationship in 4.1. There are just so many unknowns! Let me know what you think, please.**

She hadn't really expected him to come. She'd hoped, certainly, but not with any genuine expectation. Lucien just wasn't like that. He constantly rushed from place to place, 'preoccupied' he called it, and Jean always seemed to be way down his list of priorities.

So when he didn't arrive to see her off on the bus to Adelaide, she was certainly not surprised. Perhaps not even very disappointed; her life would be so much simpler without him in it. Sadder, but simpler.

And therefore, when the bus stopped and Lucien leaped on, she was lost for words. She didn't even feel pleased, at first. She just felt shocked, and maybe a little scared. But that look on his face...there was no mistaking that. He wanted her. Suddenly there were a thousand possibilities for the future, and no certainties at all.

"Jean, I..."

"Don't say anything, not yet," she interrupted him. If he didn't say it, she wouldn't have to respond. She needed time; a space to catch her breath and face the complications of a future with Lucien.

But she did take his hand. He seemed nervous, unsure if it was alright to touch her, yet usually he touched everyone; a touch on the cheek, a hand on their back. Perhaps he was as uncertain about this as she was.

And there was comfort in holding his hand, and excitement too, and against her better judgement she welcomed the ache inside her.

As the miles drifted by, they leaned together, his arm round her shoulder, their hands clasped on his knee. Slowly they unwound, and started to relax into each other.

"I didn't think you would come," she said into the silence between them. There was no reproach there.

"I'm sorry," he replied. Sorry for being late, sorry for taking her for granted, sorry for not saying something sooner, sorry for not speaking out even now. She nodded, and he pressed his lips again to her hair in a nearly-kiss, the most he dared for now. They lapsed back into quietness.

Once she had fully recovered from the shock of his arrival, Jean tentatively risked a sideways glance. He was watching her, smiling slightly, and she could see that he was waiting for her to be ready. She took a deep breath.

"How are you going to get home?"

He smiled to himself. Ever practical Jean.

"I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it. I didn't think I'd actually get on the bus at all." He touched her cheek and she looked up at him. "I thought I might persuade you not to get on it either."

At that she straightened up and looked at him curiously. "I see. I've promised Christopher, Lucien. I can't just not go."

He nodded and pulled her a bit closer. "But will you come back afterwards? I've been hoping you would. I don't want to lose you."

"We'll see," she replied. It wasn't that she didn't want to go back with him, but she was still unsure what she would be going back to. There was so much they needed to talk about - but not now.

Jean glanced around at the other passengers. "Can we talk about this later? Not here." She indicated the people around them with a nod of her head.

"Of course," he agreed, though he was struck by the irony that they had had weeks, even months, of privacy at home without talking freely, and now that they were both ready to do so, they were in a place too public for Jean's nerves.

She seemed happy enough for him to hold her though, and he spent the rest of the time until they stopped for dinner with his arm around her shoulders. His fingers traced the pattern embroidered on her dress sleeve, while he breathed in the scent of soap on her skin. She smelled faintly of home, in a familiar way that made him smile and close his eyes in contentment.

When the bus stopped Lucien stepped off and turned back to her, offering his hand to steady her on the steps, and then oh-so-casually he kept hold of her hand, leading her towards the restaurant. It was crowded with travellers and unattractively noisy.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, looking around for an empty table.

"Not really," Jean replied, "but maybe..." She waved in the direction of the toilets, and headed towards them, letting go of his hand. His hand felt empty without hers, and he roused himself to try to solve the problem of dinner.

When Jean returned he was holding a paper bag that clearly contained some food, and a bottle of lemonade in the other hand.

"Let's go outside," he suggested, and Jean followed. She struggled to keep pace with him as he strode along the path, and she found herself reaching out to him, slipping her hand through his arm. It felt surprisingly natural as a gesture, but the unfamiliar contact sent a jolt through both of them.

Lucien came to a halt suddenly, realising he had been walking too fast, and wanting to prolong the contact between them. But Jean pulled her hand away quickly; she was rather shocked at her reaction to just holding his arm. Surely it wasn't that daring?

They settled on a nearby bench and Lucien opened the bag, holding it out towards her. She took a sandwich and began to eat, glad of something ordinary to do. They shared the sandwiches and lemonade, passing the bottle between them and taking turns to drink. Even that felt new and intimate.

"Would you mind if I stayed in Adelaide for a few days?" he asked. "I could see some of the sights, and maybe we could see each other a little too. I could find a hotel."

"You don't have any luggage," Jean protested, but without any real conviction. "Do you have enough money with you to stay in a hotel?" She knew she couldn't invite him to stay at Christopher and Ruby's house.

"Enough for a night or two, till I can get to the bank at least. Anyway, I have a friend who has just borrowed £500 from the bank, so I could always ask her to lend me some." He gave her a rather cheeky look and Jean coloured with embarrassment. It was shaming enough that she'd had to ask him to be guarantor.

"A friend?" she replied rather archly. "Let's hope she's a good friend then."

"She is," he replied. "But, Jean, you know you are far more than that to me, don't you?" He kissed her briefly on the cheek, no more than a peck, really.

She nodded. She slowly slid her hand through his arm again and shuffled a little closer to him on the bench.

"I'm glad you came in the end. It would be lovely if you stayed in Adelaide for a day or two, but you'd better phone home so no one worries."

Her hand squeezed his arm gently. He felt solid, reassuringly so. She had to admit to herself that she had wondered what it would be like to hold him deliberately, and to touch him more than in passing. Now she knew, a little, and she knew she wanted more.

She kept her hand on him as they walked back to the bus. Once they were seated again he took her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. A few days in Adelaide; he hoped that would be enough time to convince her how he felt, and that all this was possible. He knew he loved her, but their lives would have to change to make this work.

And she hadn't said enough for him to be really sure what she felt. Her hand linked through his arm had been new though, and gave him hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews. There will be at least a couple more chapters of this, but I'm away from home with no internet next week, so there'll be a delay before I can post any more. Hope you enjoy this chapter in the meantime.**

He waited for her on a seat just outside the hotel, eyes closed, legs thrust out in front of him, making the most of the late afternoon sunshine.

He'd shopped for a few essentials that morning, but hadn't been to see any of the sights of Adelaide, despite what he had said to Jean. Instead, he had turned over in his mind what he should do.

His instinct was to rush ahead but he knew Jean would be more cautious than that. She was the one who would be taking the risks - to her job, and to her reputation. And she was more reserved than him; he resolved not to overwhelm her with his enthusiasm.

She approached quietly, watching him dozing or thinking, hat tipped forward on his head. Her stomach clenched at the sight of him and she pushed aside the doubts that had been rising in her mind since yesterday.

Once she had left Lucien at the bus station it hadn't taken long for her to start to explain it all away to herself. Maybe he was more concerned about the disruption to his life from losing his housekeeper. Maybe he was just looking for a bit of affection with his hot dinners. Maybe he'd come to see her off to remind her that her job was open for her to return to, rather than to confess any great love for her.

Love. He hadn't mentioned love. He'd talked about 'more than a friend', and he'd kissed her cheek, but it wasn't enough to lure her back home, not yet anyway. She knew she loved him, she was sure, but that was the problem - she couldn't go on living with him unless he felt the same way.

As she sat down on the bench beside him he stirred, and she slid her hand into his, setting aside her worries for now. He smiled slowly at her.

"You're looking very lovely, Jean," he said as he sat up and put his hat straight. "How are the family?"

Jean sighed. "The baby is beautiful, but the house is in chaos. I'd forgotten how much work a baby makes. Still, I'm sure we'll get it straight in a few days." She was still taking in his compliment.

"Can you stay for dinner this evening? We could go out somewhere, or eat in the hotel." He tried not to sound over eager, but this was against his nature.

"Not this evening, Lucien, I'm sorry. I promised to get back and cook dinner. And I'm not dressed for going out to eat." She glanced down at her ordinary day dress. It was clean, but really not suitable.

"Looks fine to me, but maybe tomorrow then, if you prefer."

He knew he would have to start he conversation if they were ever to get beyond merely being polite.

"Shall we go inside? We could have some tea in my room." He hoped she would see that he wanted to talk privately.

"In your room? Is that a good idea?" There was almost a flirtatious edge to the way she said it.

"We drank tea together in your hotel room only two days ago, so I think it's only fair," he responded, and pulled her gently to her feet by the hand she had put in his.

xxxxxxxxx

He made the tea, unusually for them, and handed her the cup before sitting down next to her on the bed.

"Jean, I'm sure you know that I'd like us to be closer. I missed you so much when you left, even though it was only for a couple of days." He looked at her, appealing to her to tell him how she felt.

Jean took a deep breath. Now or never.

"I'd like that too," she replied, looking away awkwardly, "but I'm your housekeeper, Lucien, and doctors don't usually get involved with their housekeepers."

"Actually, you're not my housekeeper any more, Mrs Toohey is," he attempted to joke with her, but then turned more serious. "It doesn't matter to me, Jean, and I hope it doesn't to you. You're Jean to me; the best and loveliest woman I've ever known." He put his arm round her shoulders and hugged her to his side. She finished her tea and set the cup down on the table, but returned to sit right next to him.

"I'm hoping you'll let me court you, Jean. Would that be alright?" he continued.

"Yes, I think it would," she agreed after a pause, and took his free hand in hers. "I think we should try it, so long as we don't make a scandal in Ballarat."

He ran his fingers down one cheek gently and kissed her other one. His beard tickled against her skin and she shivered a little in anticipation. He grinned at her reaction but moved away. Best perhaps to leave her wanting more, he thought.

She touched his beard with her fingers, ruffling it slightly, and then she leaned against his shoulder as she had on the bus. She found she was becoming fond of this; he felt warm and sturdy against her side and she felt happiness bubbling up inside her at the thought of more to come.

Soon afterwards Lucien walked her back to Christopher's house and they hurriedly arranged to meet again the next day, as Ruby opened the door to Jean. Ruby stared frankly at Lucien and Jean hurried inside to close the door. He then turned back towards the hotel and found himself smiling ridiculously at nothing in particular; she'd agreed to have dinner with him, and that was a start.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the encouragement while I was away, and especially to seven dragons for the lovely story. Here is my thank you. I hope you enjoy it.**

Jean looked at the two outfits hanging on the wardrobe door and pulled a face. Neither was really suitable for dinner out with Lucien, in her mind at least. The choice was between her one and only evening dress, the long green one she had worn when she went out with Richard, and the blue suit that was her funerals-and-serious-occasions outfit.

It would have to be the green dress, though she hated that it reminded her of a murderer. Still, Lucien liked it, if his reaction at the time was anything to go by. The ache in her stomach that she felt when she thought about seeing him this evening was rather disturbing.

As she got dressed she chided herself. What did it matter that her dress was an old one? Lucien had seen her in her dressing gown and hair net, in her gardening clothes and in an apron. There wasn't much mystique left between them.

She left her hair down, suspecting he preferred it that way, but spent longer than usual on her make up. She still wanted him to know she had made an effort. At last there was no more excuse to stay upstairs and she went down to the living room, feeling self conscious in front of Christopher and Ruby.

Neither of them commented on her outfit, but they didn't hide their interest either, and she knew they were curious about what was going on between her and Lucien.

Jean suddenly felt like her teenage self, excited and dressed up to go to the pictures with Christopher Snr, sitting under the scrutiny of her parents, her mother's warnings about 'not going too far' ringing in her ears. She smiled despite herself; she hoped Christopher and Ruby wouldn't be saying anything like that.

She had her coat on and the door open before Lucien could ring the doorbell, and she slipped out and shut the door behind them quickly, so she didn't have to introduce him to Ruby.

Lucien chuckled as he realised why she hadn't asked him inside. "What time did they say you have to be home by?" he asked.

"It's not up to them..." she started to answer, crossly, then realised he was teasing her and smiled. "Yes, alright, it is awkward, Lucien."

By now they had walked some yards from the house, and she had taken his hand without even thinking about it. Lucien stopped and turned to her.

"You are looking very beautiful this evening, Jean." He kissed the hand he was holding, which seemed to her rather old fashioned, but also rather lovely. She leant forward and kissed his cheek. He smelled deliciously of soap and himself.

"Thank you, Lucien. You are looking very smart yourself." He was wearing the suit he had travelled to Adelaide in, of course, but her housekeeper's eye told her the shirt and tie were new.

It still felt such a novelty to kiss him, she almost expected him to be horrified and back away. None of this felt truly real yet. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her nearer for a moment before letting go.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The meal at the hotel was everything their normal lives were not. In Ballarat they lived in a busy household; surrounded by the lodgers, occupied with work, and focussed on the details of life. But for that evening they were uninterrupted. There was no case to discuss or washing up to be done. The phone didn't ring and no patients intruded.

It was a very rare opportunity to talk and laugh and eat - and think only about each other.

Lucien watched her over the table as she told him a story about a neighbour. Tonight she was wearing the green dress for him, and he wondered if she knew how jealous he had felt of Richard that evening nearly a year ago.

Jean however was looking ahead rather than to the past, and she was concerned about their future.

"Will we be able to make this work back home in Ballarat?" she asked him. "We're so different, Lucien."

"Of course we will," he reassured her. "We've already lived together for years, Jean. Loving each other will only make it better. What could possibly go wrong?"

She nodded slowly. He was right, of course. They knew each other so well, and she was already sure she loved him. He was beginning to sound as though he loved her back. Surely nothing stood in their way now?

They walked back to Christopher and Ruby's house arm in arm. Jean was getting used to this now, and she was rather hoping he would kiss her properly, and soon. At the end of the street Lucien slowed his pace and turned to her.

"Will you come out with me tomorrow, Jean?" He didn't like to assume she would be able to. "We could take a walk, maybe have a picnic?"

She smiled and nodded. "Could I bring the baby in her pram? It would give Ruby a break. After all, I'm supposed to be here to help her."

"Of course. Come to the hotel whenever you're ready." He took her hand, leaned towards her and kissed her cheek gently, wanting to say goodnight away from the house. Jean stared at him and frowned, just a tiny bit.

Lucien realised how much he loved that frown, even when it meant he was in trouble. He touched her cheek softly.

"Would you rather I didn't kiss you in the street?" he asked.

"I'd rather you kissed me properly," came the reply, though she blushed a bit as she said it.

He grinned in delight. "Like this?" he asked, and tried again, this time holding her closer, his hand flat on her back, and just barely kissing her on the lips. For a moment she hesitated, then he felt her relax and respond. Her hand slid up his side and even through the layers of clothing it felt tantalising.

"Mmm, like that," she agreed, and smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

As Jean pushed the pram along the pavement, in the sunshine on the way to the park, she thought with a smile that this was the most unusual date she had ever been on. Lucien walked beside her, closer than usual, carrying a bag which she assumed contained the picnic. Just for once, she hadn't supplied the food.

They walked in a contented silence, in step with each other's thoughts. Jean rather regretted that the pram meant she couldn't thread her arm through Lucien's, but even as she thought this, he put his arm loosely around her waist and left it there, adjusting his pace to match hers.

They were more relaxed with each other today; finally they believed they both felt the same.

Once inside the park, Lucien looked for a shady tree to settle under, and then spread the rug out on the ground. Pushing the pram up close by, Jean sat down opposite him and then shuffled a little closer. Lucien grinned at her as he remembered them doing something similar months ago. He had persuaded her to wrap her arms around his neck then, entirely in the interests of solving a case, of course. He wondered if she remembered.

"When do you need to go back to Ballarat, Lucien?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Soon," he sighed. "Will you come back with me?" His eyes pleaded with her to say yes.

"I think I'll have to stay a while longer, a few weeks perhaps, till Ruby is feeling better. But then I'd like to come back home of course."

He smiled as she called his house home.

"But, I can't go back to how we were before, Lucien. I need to be more than just your housekeeper."

"Jean, we're courting now; doesn't that tell you what I'd like you to be?" He leaned forward and kissed her, rather gently still, but more decisively than the evening before. Before Jean could reply, Amelia started to stir and then cry, and they both turned towards her.

Jean went and lifted her out, picking up her bottle from the end of the pram. She fed Amelia, leaning back against Lucien's chest as he sat against the tree trunk. He kissed Jean's hair and watched as the baby's eyes slowly closed again.

After a few minutes, Jean managed to slide Amelia off her lap onto the blanket without waking her, and Lucien reached out for the bag containing their picnic. They ate slowly in the warmth of the afternoon, keeping an eye on the baby and enjoying the easy contact between the two of them. Lucien's hand slid down from around her waist and settled on her hip, while Jean curled in towards him a little, pushing off her shoes.

They couldn't imagine sitting this intimately in any public place in Ballarat, but here in the anonymity of Adelaide it was possible. Anything seemed possible.

"All that time we've wasted," Jean murmured eventually. She'd been thinking about all the times they'd been interrupted, all the opportunities lost. But her birthday had been the moment she knew; living with him wasn't going to be enough, she had to know if he loved her too.

"Not wasted, Jean. We both had to be sure, and now I think we are." He felt suddenly almost shy of telling her that he loved her. Maybe it was too soon and he would frighten her off. Or maybe it was too late, and he would be just saying what they already knew.

Jean sat up and looked him in the eye. She very deliberately laced her fingers together behind his neck, pulling him a little closer and shuffling nearer. He grinned suddenly; she remembered that day in the park too. This time she didn't frown. There was no pretending it was all about the investigation. She rubbed her cheek gently against his beard.

She kissed him carefully, even boldly, letting herself feel her body respond to him. This desire had an old familiarity, and she welcomed it. But it also had a new edge. He was not Christopher, he was not safe, but he was hers.

She opened her eyes, as she broke the kiss, to find him staring at her curiously with those blue eyes she loved. He knew something had changed during that kiss. She had let down her guard and he knew she wanted him. He kissed her back, delicately, deliberately, trying to slip his hand under her blouse, pulling it from the waistband of her skirt. He was rather shocked that she didn't stop him, though his longing to touch her bare skin was thwarted by her slip.

He groaned softly as she parted her lips, then suddenly he stopped, his forehead resting against Jean's, and their breathing ragged. Then he laughed.

"Who would have thought it? Jean Beazley kissed me..."

She gave him a playful slap on the arm.

"I'd better take this little one home," she said with a sigh, and carefully scooped her up off the rug and into the pram without waking her. Lucien raised his eyebrows at her, impressed at this skill.

"Lots of practice," she grinned. "Some things you don't forget."

"So I see," he replied, no longer sure they were talking about the baby. That earned him a frown, though not a serious one. "Come to the hotel tomorrow, Jean. I'll have to go home the day after. Maybe we can do some more practising." This time he pushed the pram as they set off to Christopher's house together.


	5. Chapter 5

**So, a little experiment! When I started writing this story, I was trying to work out how they got from A to B, that is, how they got from handholding nervously to a confident, loving relationship, in the space of a week.**

 **In the end I think there are two main alternatives: either they did quite a lot of kissing, and some frank talking about how they felt, or...they slept together, and did a little bit of talking.**

 **And both scenarios are rather out of character. Honest talking about feelings is not something either of them do well in the show. Even in 4.7 Lucien struggles with this. But equally, I can't really see Jean sleeping with him so soon. So which is it to be?**

 **I'm firmly in the camp of 'no actual sex in Adelaide' but I know plenty will disagree with me. So I've written both.**

 **Chapter 5 is the more restrained version, chapter 6 less so. But both are firmly T. I don't write actual sex. Oh no.**

 **Both chapters cover the same ground in terms of plot. I'm sure you'll read both, but either would do. And chapter 7 is just a little epilogue that goes after either version. Do please let me know which version you preferred, and which you think is less out of character!**

 **Thanks to seven dragons and coachsone for the discussions about this. I hope you like the results, even though you may not agree with the decision!**

Sitting on the only chair in his hotel room, Jean wondered if she would regret her decision to stay longer in Adelaide. But really, she couldn't just go home with Lucien now, not when she had promised to stay and help with the baby. She would be letting Christopher down if she left now, and she had let him down too often in the past.

But the knowledge that Lucien was going home tomorrow pressed down on her.

Yesterday it had all seemed so natural, so relaxed. They had leaned together, touched and kissed, and joked about more of this, but now it all felt more serious, and an awkwardness sat between them.

Lucien poured them both a glass of whisky and placed Jean's beside her on the dresser. He drank most of his own in one mouthful and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, opposite her.

"Don't stay away too long, will you?" He stared down into the glass, not looking at her directly. "I'm not sure Ballarat is home unless you are there."

She took his hand and held it loosely.

"It's just a few weeks, Lucien. I'll be home before you know it." She didn't sound completely convincing. "You'll be busy with work, too busy to miss me." She sipped her drink. The taste still made her grimace but they both needed to relax a little.

He shook his head and stood up, then starting pacing around the room. There was very little space and he seemed wound up so tightly. Jean watched him, judging the moment to intervene. Eventually she reached up as he approached her and touched his side, and as he halted she stood up and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. He pulled her against him and she stretched out full length against him, the closest they had ever stood.

"A few weeks apart won't make any difference in the long run." She rested her cheek against his collarbone and breathed him in. Her fingers glided over his neck to his collar, as she felt the muscle beneath the skin.

"I know, but I'm impatient to have you home again with me." He rubbed his chin gently against the top of her head. They held each other in silence for a moment. He looked at her then and she could see desire for her there. He kissed her softly, moving his fingers through her hair and teasing her lip with his tongue.

Time slipped by as they tentatively, then more boldly, kissed each other, as they stood in front of the window. Jean loosened his tie and then pulled it off; she wanted to feel more of him and he was happy to let her. Leaning into her, he was fully occupied trying to explore the curve of her hips with his fingertips.

"Lucien," she whispered, "Yesterday, in the park, when you talked about practising..." She had moved a little away from him as she spoke. "What were you expecting from me? Because I can't...it's too soon.." She trailed off, awkwardly.

He looked at her gravely. "Have you been worrying about this since yesterday?" She nodded, and he sighed.

"Jean, I don't expect anything. Whatever you want is fine with me. I love you. I'm happy, really happy, that you want to kiss me. If you want more, I'm certainly not going to turn you away, but that's your choice. Even when we're living in the same house."

She smiled a tiny bit. "I do want more, Lucien, but not just yet. I love you too, but I don't want to rush this." She kissed him quickly on the lips and grabbed his hand.

She walked over to the bed, kicked off her shoes, and climbed onto it. Lucien followed, his mouth falling open a little in disbelief, and he let go of her hand. With an effort, he tore his eyes away from where her skirt had ridden up as she moved up the bed.

Jean pushed the pillows back against the head board and sat on the bed, legs out in front of her and leaning back on the pillows. Turning to him with a smile, she patted the space next to her.

"Come on."

He obeyed without comment or a second thought, easing off his shoes and unbuttoning his waistcoat. He settled next to her on the mattress, sliding his arm behind her and resting his hand on her hip. Her stockinged feet leaned against his leg in a way that seemed particularly intimate.

He glanced at her sideways. This was all rather confusing. Hadn't she just made it clear she wasn't ready to go to bed with him?

"There's only one chair, Lucien. I just want to sit next to you, and talk, and maybe kiss and cuddle a bit. It's much more comfortable here, don't you think?"

Jean leaned against him gently and held his hand, stroking his knuckles with her thumb. Lucien again started to kiss her dark hair, then lifted her chin with his fingers and kissed her softly on the lips. As she deepened the kiss in response, she turned in towards him more, and he could feel the softness of her breasts against his side and chest, and her fingers on his belly, under his shirt. He could feel himself tumbling downwards into real passion and pulled himself back.

He had meant what he had said, and they would not be rushing anything.

"We won't be able to do this in Ballarat," Lucien murmured. "Not with Charlie and Mattie in the house." He grinned at the thought of Jean sitting in his bed at home.

"We'll have to be inventive then," Jean replied, a little tartly. "And we have a perfectly good couch at home. Are we going to tell anyone about us?" she continued.

"Do you think we should?" he asked.

"Well, I think some people might guess. After all, you did disappear to Adelaide rather suddenly."

She smiled at him lovingly. "I won't lie to anyone, but I'd rather not tell them either. It will only make the gossip worse if they know we're courting."

Lucien winced at the mention of the gossip. He knew it was mostly aimed at Jean, and there was nothing he could do to stop it until they were married.

Married. He knew it was too soon to suggest that to Jean, but he also knew it was what he wanted. He hugged her a little more firmly to him. He thought they were both old enough to be sure what they felt and where they were heading. But for a few weeks at least they would have to make do with phone calls.

"Perhaps I could come back for another holiday in a few weeks," he suggested hopefully.

Jean nodded. "That's a good idea."

They chatted quietly for a while. Lucien asked if she had told Christopher she would be going back to Ballarat. She had, and it hadn't gone too well. Jean wanted to know what he had said to Mattie on the phone about his sudden 'holiday'. He could truthfully say she hadn't said much, but he knew that really she had guessed his reason for going away.

After a while they slid down the bed a little, lying together on top of the covers, relaxing and even dozing for a time, and Jean found a snug place to rest her head on his shoulder.

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Jean woke as the light started to fade outside the window. Lucien had gone from the space next to her, but a blanket had been pulled up over her legs and waist. She twisted round and saw him standing at the window, looking down into the street.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Time for me to take you home," he sighed. This time he didn't mean his home in Ballarat.

They strolled back to Christopher's house, reluctant to cover the last few yards. Stopping by the gate they embraced briefly, and Jean kissed him swiftly on the mouth. "Have a safe journey," she said, and he could see her eyes shining with unshed tears. He hung on to her hand as she turned and walked away from him, and his heart lurched as her fingers slipped away from him.

She didn't look back as she shut the door behind her, and after a moment Lucien had no choice but to turn away and walk slowly back to the hotel.


	6. Chapter 6

**This is the other version of their afternoon in the hotel ;) If you haven't read the notes before chapter 5, go back and read them now! Still T.**

Jean watched him as he poured out two glasses of whisky. She took hers from him gratefully; she was nervous and thought the drink might help.

The knowledge that this was their last day together for several weeks or months was pressing down on them both. Yesterday had been carefree and relaxed, but now she had an ache in her chest at the thought of staying behind when he went back to Ballarat.

She knew she ought to stay. Christopher and Ruby needed her, and she had promised them. She had let Christopher down too often in the past. But her heart lay with this man, and in his house in Ballarat.

He sat down heavily on the bed opposite her and took a mouthful of his drink. Jean shuffled forward on the chair until their knees were touching, but said nothing.

"You won't stay away too long, will you? It won't be the same at home without you." He finished his drink and set the glass down on the dresser.

Jean sipped her whisky and grimaced. She would never understand how he actually enjoyed this stuff.

"It'll only be a few weeks, Lucien. I'll be home before you know it. Anyway, you'll be busy with work." She suspected she would have more time to miss him instead. "I have to stay for a while, but a month or two will make no difference to us in the end."

She reached out and took his hand, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. This felt so natural now, yet just a few days ago, on the bus, it had seemed so daring.

He stroked her cheek with his other hand and she slid quickly onto the bed next to him. The mattress dipped under her and pushed them nearer, legs touching, and Lucien pulled her closer against him with an arm round her waist and fingers spreading over the curve of her hip.

She rested her head against him and he rubbed his cheek against her hair. The scent of her hair tantalised him, and he started kissing her hairline, then when she turned in towards him, he kissed her mouth gently. Jean opened her eyes and met a look of such desire in his eyes that her breath hitched and she broke the kiss.

They held each other's gaze for a moment, both silently asking the same question.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, and when she nodded he kissed her again, teasing her lip with his tongue until she parted her lips a little. Jean felt him smile then, his whiskers tickling her mouth, and she closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations that were flooding over her.

He was just so different, so him, and she suddenly wanted to feel his skin under her fingertips. She tried to undo his tie and collar button, but after a moment he put his hand over hers and stopped her.

"Let me," he murmured against her lips, and made quick work of undoing his tie and shirt collar with one hand. Jean stopped and looked at him appraisingly; that seemed very smooth, and she realised, not for the first time, that this situation was not as unfamiliar to him as it was to her.

She felt awkward and out of practice. It was more than fifteen years since she had been this intimate with any man and she sighed almost imperceptibly.

Lucien placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "This is different for me too, Jean. You are different, and you're the only one for me now, and for the rest of my life, I hope."

She nodded slowly, and then leaned forward again to kiss him, first on the lips but then on his neck and collarbone, tasting his salty skin as she slowly undid some more shirt buttons. "Me too," she breathed against his neck.

Lucien meanwhile had undone the top buttons of her dress and was tracing the lace edge of her slip where it touched her. As his fingertips slid between her breasts she groaned quietly and, emboldened by this, he then reached down to lift up the hem of her dress and stroke her leg upwards, with only the thin silkiness of her stockings between their skin.

"Lucien...?" she said, and indicated the bed with a glance. His eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, and she acknowledged to herself that this was a step for him too.

"If you're sure," he replied, and her stomach contracted at the hope in his voice. She responded by moving away from him, turning her back, and swiftly undoing the remaining buttons on her dress. As she eased off her shoes and stepped out of the dress she heard from behind her a catch in his breath, and she could feel her cheeks growing pink despite herself. Quickly draping the dress over the chair she got into bed without meeting his eyes at all.

Once safely under the covers she risked a look at him, to find he had taken off his shirt, shoes and socks, and was making short work of the trousers. Turning towards her he grinned delightedly and climbed into bed, scooting up close to her and reaching out for her. Jean slid her hand under the back of his vest against his skin, pulling it up and off, and he knew then he would always remember every detail of this afternoon with joy.

xxxxxxxxxx

Lucien woke and for a moment was disorientated. He was lying on his front in a room made gloomy by the coming dusk. He felt more relaxed than he could remember feeling for years. Someone was leaning against his side and he could feel a delicious tickling sensation on his back.

"Jean?" he murmured.

"Mmm," she replied, and the movement of her lips against his skin thrilled him. He realised she was kissing the scars on his back, the darker whip lines that were faded now, but would always remind him of horrors he couldn't talk about.

Yet now he didn't feel the rush of shame he expected. He had always hidden his scars, but he knew he didn't need to keep them from Jean anymore.

He turned over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. She sighed with satisfaction and stretched like a cat, then fell back against him gently, letting her head rest on his chest.

"We won't be able to do this in Ballarat, you know," he said with a grin. "Not with Mattie and Charlie in the house."

"Hmm, we might have to be careful. There's enough gossip about us already."

Lucien groaned. He knew that most of the gossip was directed against Jean, and he knew there was little he could do to prevent it, at least until they were married.

Married. In his own mind now he was sure they would get married, and soon, though perhaps it would be a little hasty to mention it now. But they were both old enough to be certain that what they felt would last.

"Are you going to tell anyone about us?" Jean asked at last.

"Not unless you want me to," he replied, shifting so he could see her face better.

"I'd rather not tell anyone yet. Maybe Mattie and Charlie if we have to." She sat up, ignoring the fact she was naked. "And I won't put them in a difficult situation at home - so I don't think we should be sharing a bed at home. Not yet, anyway." She frowned at him, daring him to disagree.

"I may just have to pay another visit to Adelaide before too long," he suggested with a cheeky look in his eye. He didn't argue with her. She was right; they could hardly sleep together openly at home and expect Mattie and Charlie to cover for them. But he hoped it wouldn't be for long.

They both dressed slowly, all shyness gone now, and Jean attempted to tidy her hair in front of the mirror. Then they walked arm in arm back to Christopher's house and Lucien kissed her goodbye at the front door. He didn't linger over it - there was no point, they knew he had to go the next day.

"I'll phone you at home tomorrow," Jean promised, her eyes glistening a little with emotion, and with a quick smile towards him she opened the door and went inside. For a moment Lucien was left staring at the front door, until he turned and started slowly walking back towards the hotel.


	7. Chapter 7

**This is just a little epilogue because I've always been curious about how Christopher must have felt about his mother leaving after just a few days.**

 **NancyMay has, coincidentally, recently written something about the same part of the story, and I wondered if I should just leave this story now without the epilogue. But I think it is important actually. Jean has effectively let her son down (again?) and I think that would have been difficult for them both. And my version is different, so here goes:**

"So you're just going then, like that?" Christopher's voice started to rise in anger.

"You knew I wouldn't be staying forever." She tried to defuse the situation, speaking quietly but firmly. "I'm sorry, I know it's a bit sudden, but I'm needed at home. Matthew might be dying, and I have to go."

"Just a few weeks ago you were talking about staying here in Adelaide for good. Then it was just going to be a few months. But now you're just walking away, and you've scarcely been here much more than a week. Be honest, Mum, this isn't about Matthew Lawson." He looked so disappointed in her.

Jean took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. "I've known Matthew for many years, and he's a good friend. But you're right. I want to go home. My home is in Ballarat, Christopher."

"Isn't this just about Blake? He wants you home, so you go, leaving Ruby and me in a mess. He's not your boss anymore, Mum. He's taken you out to dinner once, and suddenly you'll do whatever he wants. What's the matter with you?" His voice was harsh with emotion, but Jean could see it was mostly hurt, not anger.

"There's nothing the matter with me. And Lucien hasn't asked me to go home, Mattie has. Lucien and I have...grown very close recently, and I don't want to be so far away from him. I'm going to see what I can do to help with Matthew, and then I intend to go back to live at Lucien's house. I love him." Christopher saw her, both defiant and embarrassed by what she had just admitted, and he knew she would win. He shook his head in despair.

"Mum, I hope he makes you happy. I really do. But most of the town already think you're sleeping with him. Think about your reputation."

"That's my business," she retorted. "And he does make me happy."

Christopher nodded, defeated. He was worried for her. Blake was unreliable, much too fond of a drink, and liable to break her heart.

"I hope he loves you too," he said more gently, and smiled at her for the first time. "You'll always be welcome back, you know."

Jean nodded and kissed his cheek. "I know, and thank you. Now, I must go, the taxi will be here any moment."

She picked up her suitcases and opened the front door. The car was already there. Christopher took the bags from his mother and put them in the boot of the taxi. She climbed into the car and turned to him.

"Say goodbye to Ruby for me, and kiss Amelia for me." He nodded and waved as the car moved away. Still frustrated, and feeling rather bitterly towards Blake, he walked back inside. What did that man have that his mother couldn't seem to resist?


End file.
